


Lost in the Distance

by iammisscullen



Category: One Direction
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Phone Sex, head canon, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammisscullen/pseuds/iammisscullen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If people can miss the one’s they love even if they are just at the other room, or if they’re lying in bed with them, it’s okay for Harry to miss him when he’s a thousand of miles away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in the Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for my smut incompetence. I have no idea why I wrote this but I just had the urge to. Anyways. This should have been posted a month ago but... well... :) Hope you like it.

 

_‘I cannot continue in this condition._

_I have to remind myself to breathe —_

_almost to remind my heart to beat!’_

 

-Emily Bronte, _Wuthering Heights_

 

_**  
_

Harry looks at the time on his phone as he lay down in the soft bed. The numbers are mostly dancing but he can make out of a 3 and a 23. The rational part of his brain convinces him, as a conclusion, that it must be 3:23 in the morning, Barcelona time. Perfect!

He dials. He pushes the call button. It rings. He waits.

Even at his drunk state, Harry can’t help but be nervous, be hopeless, be in pain. And it should not be like that because one of liquor’s promises is to feel brave yet Harry’s cowering as he listens for the call to be answered.

It rings four times − not that he’s sure − before it gets to be picked up.

If people can miss the one’s they love even if they are just at the other room, or if they’re lying in bed with them, it’s okay for Harry to miss _him_ when he’s a thousand of miles away. The bed that Harry occupies still smells like him. They had both slept at it last night and Harry’s sleeping where he last slept, trying to breath in whatever he got left for Harry to remember.

‘Haz?’ The voice on the other end sounds surprise. Harry feels whole yet he longs to be where he is right now. ‘Do you know what time is it?’ he asks. There’s no contempt in his voice but a tone of worry.

‘I’m not really sure,’ he answers, drunkenly. He giggles. His intoxicated brain finds it amusing that for so many questions to ask him, he had been asked for the time. Maybe it’s a semantic statement but he isn’t sharp to convey anything except their literal meaning. Fuck reading between the lines!

There’s a sharp inhale at the other end. ‘What’s wrong?’

 Harry wants to say, _Every fucking thing_. But he doesn’t, instead he laughs. Harry often heard the comment that he’s an example of the happy and giggly drunk. And that proves it right now. He’s laughing even when he’s actually feeling the opposite. The alcohol is finally working yet, there is still pain inside Harry’s chest that no alcohol could lull.

‘Haz.’ The voice on the other side is getting worried. Harry can hear him moving, changing his position in bed.

‘Ssshhh…’ Harry giggles again. ‘I have a confession to make.’ Pause. ‘I’m actually drunk.’ He burst into a fit of laughter that it hurt his stomach and a tear escapes his eye. The laughter isn’t real but maybe the tear is.

‘Haz,’ the voice says again. ‘Please don’t.’

‘Why not?’ Harry snaps, his free hand balling into a fist.

‘I have an early flight back tomorrow,’ he answers.

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes even if he knows that the other person won’t be able to see it. But maybe they both know each other that well that they can already tell what the other’s face is at the other end of the phone. It’s like when you can tell when someone is smiling even when you can’t see their expression. You just know it by the cadence of their voice and there’s a goose bump that runs down your arm because you feel their happiness.

‘Right.’ Harry rolls his eyes again. ‘I also have a _lot_ to do tomorrow, Zayn.’ He sounds angry but he’s just bitter and miserable. ‘Like arrange a mini funfair for the love of _my_ life because she’s turning 21.’ If Harry’s sober, he’d never say any of these because he isn’t cruel. He isn’t the sadist that alcohol is making him right now. He’s the masochist that hates the pain but will never run away from it because if pain means being with Zayn… so be it.

Zayn is quiet. All Harry could hear is Zayn’s breathing. He can imagine the tan boy brooding again, thinking of ways to calm Harry or talk some sense into him. But Harry doesn’t need to be soothed, he needs to be fuck. Fuck roughly that he will feel it for weeks. He wants that pain that he is enduring for, the pain that he feels in his bones, the pain of Zayn’s long fat cock in his tight hole.

‘I miss your prick, you twat,’ Harry says. And he should have said _I miss you_ but that will only hurt him more. A different pain from what he’s fantasizing about. ‘I want it in my hands, my mouth, my ass,’ he says every word slowly like he use to when he whispers filthy things into Zayn’s ear when they shag. ‘I’ll take it. Every inch of it. I want you to gag me with it that it’ll be hard for me to breath and all I can think about is your cock in my mouth. Long... Big… And slick with my saliva.’

Zayn groans at the other end as Harry gets dizzy with the image he himself is creating. He misses Zayn _so_ much. Luckily he’s only wearing his boxers because he won’t be able to handle his tight jeans as he reach for his cock with his free hand, the other holding his phone to his ear.

‘Can you feel how warm my mouth is Zed?’ He finally got a hand around his aching dick. ‘Can you still remember how it feels to be in my mouth? I’ll hum, vibrating your cock while I deep throat you.’ He’s wanking himself at the quiet whimper of Zayn. ‘You taste to good babe. Oh god! Salty.’ He pants loudly for Zayn to hear. He didn’t pass the chance to lick his lips dirtily and noisily like he was licking a lollipop. Zayn’s cock-lollipop. His hands are big but they aren’t the rough palms and skinny fingers that he’s aching for. But then it will do. For now.

‘Haz,’ Zayn sounds like he’s in pain. Harry knows he isn’t. Harry can hear the obscene sounds of Zayn fisting himself. And it only makes Harry to fasten the rhythm as he pumps his hands up and down his own cock. ‘Will you let me pull your hair while I fuck your beautiful mouth?’ Zayn’s voice goes raspy.

Harry smiles. ‘Yeah.’ He continues as he listens intently to Zayn’s panting and wanking. It should be weird to be able to identify Zayn’s pants and the sound of Zayn’s hand on his dick, but Harry must have gained some sort of incredible hearing powers when he’s drunk. ‘I’ll let you fuck my mouth and pull my hair Zayn.’ He groans. ‘I’ll let you use my mouth. I’ll lick you from the underside and take it all in again. Up… Down… Up… Down.’

‘Fuck.’ Harry can hear Zayn pumping faster.

‘Then when your prick is slick enough I’ll let you fuck me with it.’ Harry moans this time. ‘I’m not even going to get myself ready for you. So that you’ll feel how tight I am. I want your cock to stretch me like no fingers could.’

Zayn made a sound that could be close to an animal in heat.

‘You’ll entre me. Feel how tight I am. How warm I am. You’re inside me and I love the stretch! Fuck! You’re so big, Zayn.’ He moans. ‘I’ll clench around you. And you’re moving slowly, bucking your hips forward , finding and hitting my prostrate.’ Harry pumps faster. ‘You’ll thrust into me and I’ll thrust back into you. You like me fighting back right?’ Harry’s close and he can tell that Zayn is too. ‘I’ll grind my ass into you as push inside me again. You thrust, I grind. And I’ll say your name, _Zayn Zayn Zayn Zayn_ while you fuck me mercilessly.

‘And every time I do, I’ll thrust back into you as you ease in me…deeply.’ Harry can feel the build in his groin.His words getting weaker as he reaches the peek to his orgasm. ‘And I’ll clench around you−’

He gets cut off when Zayn screams his name, climaxing. And at the sound of Zayn’s moan, Harry also comes. Then everything is silent. Both just listening to the breathing of the other as they come down from their high.

‘I miss you too Haz,’ Zayn says quietly like he’s afraid if the words are too loud it’ll break him or Harry.

Harry isn’t the type to cry but he does, mutely. There are no sounds just tears freely cascading down his face as he lay there on Zayn’s side of the bed.

‘I miss you… so much,’ Zayn says again, as quietly as the first one. Each word reminding Harry that Zayn values him. These are the words Harry denies himself to say out loud because it hurts but now as he hears it from Zayn it does the opposite. It’s like a balm to his bitter aching heart.

‘Me too,’ he says instead because admitting to be missing Zayn still hurts. Only a little now. ‘Hurry back you me yeah?’

And Harry can hear the smile on Zayn’s voice as the boy hums _Yeah_. ‘Go to sleep, Haz. I’ll be back in the morning.’

How Harry wish it’s the next day already so he can get soak in Zayn. The distance is tormenting but Harry’s assure that it won’t last long. They’ve survive worse things before. Distance and someone else’s birthday will not break them. Never.

         

_Fin._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is actually inspired by The Wanted's [Show Me Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgA4iFFhe14)
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on [Tumblr](hopelessly-inzayn.tumblr.com)
> 
> :)


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